


Mixed Signals

by kikiki, Raikana



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Fluff and Smut, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikiki/pseuds/kikiki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikana/pseuds/Raikana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken night results in Squall finding his father. And so much more than he ever bargained for. A story of two people discovering each other, and maybe themselves, along the rise and pitfalls of their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Author notes & warnings:**  
> Multiple chapters.  
> Contains graphic sexual depictions.  
> Contains excessive language.  
> Contains incest.
> 
>  **Character warnings:**  
>  Characters in this story might behave and speak vastly different from their original sources. This is on purpose, and is an attempt to realistically humanize them. Laguna’s character is pretty flawed and sometimes awful. Squall, Quistis, Zell, and the rest are teenagers. And despite growing up in a military fashion, I still think they would act like teenagers. With the excessive swearing and temper tantrums and all. Take it with a grain of salt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The handsome President of Esthar drops a bomb on Squall.

A soft, disgruntled groan left his lips as he began to stir. He instinctively raised an arm and draped it over his eyes, shielding them from the morning light. His thoughts weren’t on the soft sheets, or the warm body beside him but on the damned light. _The sun is on the wrong side_ , was all his brain could muster. Squall felt as though his thoughts weren’t catching up fast enough, or that there might even be something wrong with this situation. He sat up in the unfamiliar bed with a swift motion. And instantly felt regret.

His head was pounding, throbbing in agony. His thoughts were sluggish and his mouth was painfully dry, lips cracked. Squall snapped his eyes open and scanned the quarters as he was well-trained to do, irritated at his slow thought process. The room was lavish and modernly-decorated. The light drapes did nothing to block the damned light from lancing into his skull. His eyes wandered south to his lap, head held in his hands as he heard a soft snore come from his side. He uncovered one of his eyes and looked sideways at the figure next to him, wrapped up in a light blanket. He covered his face again and groaned softly, careful not to wake the man sleeping next to him. “What the fuck was I thinking...?”

The preceding night came rushing back as the last syllable left his aching lips. A night of heavy drinking, and bad decisions. In the harsh light of day, he remembered exactly who it was he had followed to bed and his brain started filling in all the reasons he should not have done so. 

The night started off innocently enough, or so he thought. A group outing after a particularly grueling and monotonous diplomatic “event” ended with Squall, Quistis and Zell spending some “quality time” with the president of Esthar. Which meant getting roaring drunk in this context. And somewhere during the night, he remembered Mr. President getting a bit more...affectionate than normal. One thing led to another and...well...here he was. Waking up in the President’s bed with a pounding hangover and the ruler of a country curled up beside him in a nest of sheets and blankets, talking in his sleep..

“Cornflakes...” The almighty president snored in his sleep, face pressed into the expensive pillow, signs of a light drool on the accompanying pillowcase. _Very formidable, Mr. President,_ Squall noted. Perhaps if he was careful, he could slip out of the room and into his own before the other man woke up. And more importantly, before Quistis or anyone else from Balamb Garden saw him sneaking from the President’s room. He couldn’t even imagine the hot water this would land him in. Or the relentless ridicule that would spiral out of control. The rumors. The tabloids. Hyne, no, this couldn’t leave the room. It doesn’t matter what transpired, this had to stay between them and die between them.

He turned slowly and started inching toward the edge of the bed, freezing when he felt movement beside him. The President rolled over onto his side and one arm emerged from the blankets, muzzily patting the bed next to him. Squall heard a confused noise from the blankets and started inching off the bed again. He was almost free until a hand clasped around his wrist. Squall let out a light, surprised noise. The President poked his face out from under the blankets, squinting against the bright sunlight as he watched Squall. “Where you goin’? It’s too early to be awake...” Laguna pulled his hand away to shield his eyes from the painful light pooling into the room. 

“Most people are awake by now” he instinctively responded, followed by a disciplinary chastising in his own head. Squall didn’t dare to turn his attention to the older man for fear of... _something._ As he felt the President rustle through the sheets and sit up behind him, Squall pulled away to the edge of the bed and frantically searched for his clothes. He did his best to ignore the dried fluid on his inner thighs. He was desperate for a shower and needed to seek one out as soon as possible.

Squall froze yet again as he felt a warm, soft hand on his shoulder. “Come on...come back to bed. It’s the morning after a big party. No one’s gonna be busting your ass for sleeping in...”

“Then I don’t think you know the SeeD very well at all,” Squall quipped as he brushed the hand off his shoulder and reached for the discarded pants pooled on the floor. He further chewed himself out when he realized there was no underwear to be found- _I came commando. Just wonderful._

“I guess I don’t” Laguna agreed lightly, almost playful in his tone. Squall could feel the President’s eyes glue onto him as he hastily pulled up his pants and fastened the many, many belts. “Does it matter? You need to turn off that SeeD mentality sometime, right? Otherwise you’d go crazy.” Squall scoffed at his words, sitting down on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots.

“You know even less about me, it seems” he muttered mostly to himself, but made sure the lecherous President could hear it if he was observant. The weight of the bed shifted dramatically as he felt the tickle of long hair over his shoulder. President Loire rested his chin on Squall’s bare shoulder, eyes half-lidded from sleep. 

“Stay a little while. No one comes up here.” This was both interesting and dangerous. Squall thought of Laguna as a goof, a moron, an imbecile. But those words rang with a sort of knowledge, as if Laguna sensed what was on his mind. Those words also implied a continuation of last night’s festivities- Something he certainly didn’t want to be caught up in. Not again. Squall shrugged him off with the delicate grace of an irritated parent, scouring the room for his shirt and jacket. “Fine,” Laguna groaned reluctantly. “I’ll help you, Hyne. You don’t have to make a big deal out of everything, _SeeD_.” The emphasis on the word SeeD brought Squall’s blood to a boil. Disrespect for his life’s mission and insult to his character all in one sentence. How they fell into bed with each other was starting to turn into a huge mystery.

Squall whipped his glare to the man, mouth open in anger and protest but fell silent as he watched the President slide out of bed. _Of course he’s naked, why wouldn’t he be?_ He thought to himself. Though the surprise still didn’t wear away. Physically, President Loire was quite a sight. Despite his age, he looked rather young and seemed to take care of himself. Underneath the softening layer of fat, Squall could almost still see the soldier's body. The President took a single step forward before inhaling sharply and holding his hip. Squall watched as the man stumbled a step or two more and grabbed hold of the top of a dresser, wincing in the process. Before Squall could even ask, not that he cared at the moment, President Loire said “You really did a number on me last night.” 

Squall then put two and two together, realizing that he was not the one penetrated last night but was the… Penetrator. This brought him dangerously close to a pleased smile. _Damn right_ , Squall mentally cheered in triumph. _Serves you right for talking to me the way you are._ This revelation pleased him in too many ways to count. Not only did he best the President of an entire nation, he came out on top of an older man. Typically this sort of scenario would land a younger person being weak to the older one’s wiles. He also shut him up from further disrespecting him in one swoop. What a victory.

“...you look pretty pleased with yourself, Squall.” President Loire sighed softly. Squall cleared his throat as the President tossed him the white fitted shirt that sat atop the dresser, hastily pulling it on over his head.

“I am. Even when drunk, I can take command of a situation.”

“Oh, is that right?” He heard the President scoff in irritation. “So I’m some kinda prized situation between you and your SeeD buddies? See who can get him into bed then make him feel like an ass in the morning?” Squall visibly frowned. What was he going on about?

“You took me to bed, not the other way around,” Squall responded as he stalked around for his pendant. President Loire let out a laugh as he watched the younger one search about.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Squall watched the President rummage through his dresser through the corner of his eye. The older man winced and bent down to pull on a pair of loose boxer shorts. “I seem to recall that you were practically begging to spend more time with me.”

Squall practically growled as he turned away from President Loire to hide his red cheeks. He spotted a flash of light to one side and snatched his pendant from the floor. “You were draped all over me and almost making out with me in front of everyone,” he snapped. “I fail to see how that was me somehow _seducing_ you.”

“Once you left to ‘escort’ me to my room, you couldn’t stop telling me how much you wanted to fuck me.” President Loire laughed and pulled out a pair of cargo shorts. “What’s a boy supposed to do when the handsome soldier makes that kind of offer?”

Squall latched his pendant around his neck and ran his fingers through his hair before he felt stable enough to face the President again. “So you just grab onto random people at parties and start kissing their necks? What the hell was I supposed to take away from that? Especially when you asked me to come back here.”

He saw the older man’s shoulders ripple as the fall of dark hair covered his face, almost looking like the young man from Squall’s dreams. Except for the love handles. “What can I say? I’m a bit of a handsy drunk. Usually it’s one of my staff that gets to bring me back and very few of them admit to wanting to fuck me.” President Loire turned and gave him a cheeky grin, highlighting the laugh lines on his face. “And so vigorously, too.”

Squall tightened his jaw to keep himself from grabbing Mr. President again and showing him just how vigorous SeeD soldiers could be. “...obviously this can’t leave this room,” he said instead, tugging at the hem of his jacket to get out some of the wrinkles. “It would be a political nightmare.”

President Loire laughed again, but it sounded almost bitter this time. “For more reasons than you know,” he said quietly before he pulled his white T-shirt over his head, tousling his silky black hair. He then opened the closet door and pulled down one of a dozen identical button-up shirts. “You remember how there was something I needed to talk to you about on Ragnarok? And then the whole...saving the world happened and we never got to do that?”

Squall clamped his jaw even tighter and took a few deep breaths through his nose. “...yes?” he gritted out between his teeth, his stomach already rolling. Coming at a time like this, it couldn’t possibly be good news, so he had to brace himself mentally.

President Loire shrugged the open shirt onto his frame as easily as he’d shrugged off its twin the night before. “Well, after we met, my people started checking up on you. Security concerns and blah blah blah. Very important National Security or government something or other...”

Squall felt a muscle near his eye twitch as the President of Esthar stood in front of his closet blithering like an idiot. An attractive idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. “...and?”

“And...well...” The older man coughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked over to the bed and took a seat. Summoning Squall to take a seat next to him as he padded the empty space to his right. “When a man and a woman love each other very much...”

Squall sighed and put his head into his hand. “I know how it works. Look at where I am and what I did. Get to the fucking point, _Mr. President_.”

“The point is that they managed to dig up records from your old orphanage and they figured out where you came from. And who your mother was.” 

Squall turned to look at President Loire with wide eyes, but then he schooled his expression back to it’s neutral state. “It’s not like it matters now. My parents are long dead and I’m a SeeD, now. On account of them being dead.” It came out of his lips like it was a terrible thing to be a SeeD, but he loved his position.

The President reached over and settled a palm over Squall’s hand, stroking his thumb over the back as if to soothe him. Squall fought to keep from rolling his eyes at the “comforting” touch. It took a lot of willpower not to just pull his hand away. The older man sighed nervously and looked down at their hands, his hair falling into his eyes. “...about that... They found out only your mother was dead. Your father left her while she was pregnant and never came back...but he’s still alive.”

“It still doesn’t make any difference, now. If the bastard wasn’t around to keep me out of the orphanage, why should I care if he’s still alive?” Squall snapped and yanked his hand from the older man’s grip. “Are we done here?”

The President pouted petulantly at Squall for a moment before he sighed, looking conflicted. “As much as I’d like it to be done...no. I have to get this out before anything else happens. Your mother.” The President stopped for a moment and cleared his throat again. “Her name was Raine Loire.”

Despite bracing himself for all manner of horrible news, this took Squall by surprise. His stomach suddenly plummeted to his feet and he felt cold as the blood seemingly left his body. “...Raine Loire...as in the Raine from Winhill...?”

The President nodded slightly, staring down at his hands. “We could go see her grave together sometime. If you want...” Squall shook his head and brushed the comment aside with the wave of a hand.

“...Raine Loire as in Laguna Loire, President of Fucking Esthar and the man I just fucked last night?!”

“Well...yeah. I was getting to that part...” President Loire smiled nervously and looked over at him. Squall just stared back in disbelief. “I...I guess I have some missed birthdays to make up for?”

Squall opened his mouth to reply, but his brain refused to work. The hangover and now the news that he’d fucked his own father. And the man _knew_ about it when they did it! He shut his mouth again, turned his face away from the President...his father, and stalked out the door silently. Last night’s drinks desperately fought to make their way back up his body.

“...that could have gone better, I think,” he heard as he hurried down the hallway. The older man was _still_ making light of what they had done last night.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was especially difficult to write the whole "I'm your dad" bit. :x


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laguna and Squall sit down and have a nice conversation. Ruined by the president's sexual appetite.

Squall was tense and irritable throughout the course of the day. Had they not been assigned to complete tasks in Balamb Garden’s name, he would’ve bolted the Hell out of Esthar never to return. He was embarrassed and utterly disgusted at the morning’s revelation. Not to mention completely appalled at the President- His father’s- Grotesque behavior. _It’s unacceptable. He’s not a man. He’s a worm._

His mind was swarmed with questions as well. His father was in Esthar the entire time? Why was he abandoned? _Why did we have sex, knowing I’m his son?!_

Quistis took notice of his rather gloomy and uncomfortable appearance as they sat in a formal dinner hall, the SeeDs dressed in their impeccable uniforms. “Squall,” she whispered beside him, “You seem to have a bigger stick up your ass than usual. What’s going on?” Squall did not respond. His brows only furrowed and scowl deepened as the _amazing_ President Loire stepped up to recite some words, no doubt written by Kiros, his aide. He seethed in his seat as everyone around him cheered for the disgusting worm. Irvine gave him a light nudge with his elbow as he clapped along with the crowd.

“You sure got hellfire eyes for the President, Squall. Anything happen we ought ta know about?” Irvine and the SeeDs continued to clap respectfully until President Loire began to speak.

“No. Nothing.” Squall’s voice was like a sharp knife to delicate silk fabric. He couldn’t hide his apparent disgust and anger anymore than Selphie could hide her joy. As soon as the speech came to a close, Squall stabbed at the steak in front of him once or twice before promptly leaving the dinner hall. He couldn’t bear being in the same room as that imbecile. That revolting wretch. Selphie’s concerned voice followed him as he briskly exited. He ignored everything.

***

Squall couldn’t break the mental cycle that began that morning. It was an unrelenting loop of revulsion, anger, betrayal and something else he’d rather not admit to himself. He spent hours in his private palace quarters, surely pacing a hole into the flooring as he made laps around the room, hands behind his back. This was the only place he was sure no one would intrude. Just as he began his vicious mental cycle again, there was a soft rapping at the door. He was jolted out of his thoughts, thankfully, and responded “No visitors”.

“Squall, we need to talk...” And there he was. The man of the hour. The king of the fucking castle. The lecherous bastard. 

“ No”. Squall spat back. “We needed to talk  _ months _ ago. Not now.” Squall glared at the shut door, fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to sucker punch the man in the face. The President let out a soft, almost remorseful sigh at the door.

“Squall, let me in. Or people are gonna wonder why the president’s at your door at two in the morning.” Two in the morning? Squall turned to the blue wall clock that hung above his dresser. He wondered if he really paced around for six whole hours. It’s a wonder his feet weren’t exhausted, still dressed in the stuffy formal uniform and stiff boots. Squall wanted, above else, not to cause any scenes or scandals. With a sharp, seething inhale, he granted President Loire entrance to his room.

Laguna stepped into the room with a surprised grunt. “It’s so freakin’ dark in here, what’ve you been doin’?” Squall shielded his eyes as the president clapped the room lights into full brightness.

“ Avoiding you,” he responded bluntly and honestly. Laguna only sighed. Every time the man sighed it made him sound older. He could’ve sworn he saw the man’s shoulders sag at each sigh as well. But that might’ve been wishful thinking on his part. He wanted the President to feel as miserable as he did. He wanted Laguna, his father, to feel remorse for the years he was abandoned and to be ashamed of himself over what they did the night before. But he didn’t seem to have much luck. The President began to unbutton his stiff, expensive shirt as he took a leisurely seat on Squall’s bed. Squall grit his teeth and practically snarled at him. “Don’t just do what you want, old man. I didn’t say you could sit.” Laguna’s surprised expression wore off as quickly as it appeared, only to be replaced with soft laughter.  _ Hyne damn you, this isn’t a joke! _

Laguna bit his lip and forced himself to quiet down, the dress shirt hanging off his arms. President Loire sighed once again, this time in a more content manner. A sincere, apologetic smile appeared on his face. “This is weird for me, too, y’know.” Squall crossed his arms defiantly over his chest, towering over Laguna as he stood at his feet. He wanted to slug him across the face. But a small, very small, miniscule part of him thought the President looked adorable. With the messy long hair, dress shirt off his shoulders- _Stop that train of thought, NOW._ He attempted to regain control of the situation.

“You’re shameless even when you attempt to apologize”. He glowered down at the older man.

“I wasn’t apologizing,” Laguna retorted a matter-of-factly.”It’s a little weird, but I don’t regret doing anything”. 

“Where do I even begin with this? With you?!” Squall angrily snapped at him. “You’re incorrigible! Shameful! Repulsive! A bastard!” His furious torrent continued despite Laguna shushing him left and right, warning him about the time and how people are sleeping at the moment. “I will not shut up, you’re going to hear every damned word I have to say-” Squall was muffled in a flash, a large hand clasped over his mouth. President Loire pressed a finger over his own lips as if to say “Shhhhhh”. Squall only glared, then bit down into the flesh of Laguna’s palm..

“OW! What the Hell?!” Laguna yanked his hand back, holding it gingerly against his chest. Squall spit the “venom” out of his mouth, not caring where the spit landed. “There’s _blood_ , Squall. You made me _bleed_.” 

“Shut. Up. This isn’t about you.” The SeeD brushed the blood away from his lips with the back of his hand, eyes sharply glued onto the fragile President Loire.

“The Hell it isn’t! I came here to—”

“To what? Sleep with your son again?” Squall growled low in his throat. “To make a fool out of me? To make me question everything about my life?” President Loire sat there in silence, a curious and thoughtful look on his face. He continued to hold his injured hand close to him. It was a long, long time before either one of them spoke, or even moved. Squall eventually took a seat across the way from Laguna, sitting at a desk chair. Arms crossed against his chest yet again, watching the moronic President in his stoopered silence.

“... I made you question your life?” The President whispered quietly.

“That tends to happen when your sexual partner ends up being your father,” he lashed in response.

“...hrm...” Laguna shrugged off the dress shirt, setting it aside. Sitting there in his white undershirt with a look that could only be described as contemplation, he lowered his hands to his lap, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. “I guess I didn’t think about that. I kinda already worked out the weird shit in my head, and…” He trailed off.

“And?” Squall urged him on with a sharp tongue.

“And it doesn’t bother me.” Squall grit his teeth.

“What exactly doesn’t bother you? There’s a lot at play here.” He did his best to keep composed and tried to restrain himself from pulling those long locks out of his empty skull.

“...it doesn’t bother me that we slept together.” The SeeD could feel his eye twitch involuntarily again. “It’s not like I knew who you were, or you knew who I was, when we first met. To be really honest, I thought you were really cute-” Squall held a hand up as if to say “I don’t want to hear anymore”. 

“Explain.”

Laguna looked puzzled. “Explain what?”

“ Everything. How you went from being with my mother to being a gay, incestuous President.” Laguna’s smile was forced, there wasn’t a single glint in his eye as he heard Squall say those hurtful words.  _ Good _ , he mused.  _ I hope that expression is a permanent one. It suits you. _

Laguna began the epic that was his life prior to Raine, how he ended up forcefully enlisted, all he wanted to do was write. _Apparently he had the heart of a poet_ , Squall thought snidely, face as stoic as it could be. The President regaled him of his misadventures with Kiros and Ward, tales of Julia and Ellone. Squall feigned lack of interest throughout, he didn’t dare give the old fart the satisfaction of being interested in the story.

“ ... I spent years writing and sending messages and all sorts of things to Raine and Ellone. I was hoping they’d understand when I got back. By the time I had a chance to, I… I came home to a gravestone.” At this point of his story, Laguna laid flat on his back, staring up at the uninteresting ceiling. His voice noticeably cracked at this point of his tale, but he pressed on. “The villagers told me she died a long time ago. And they weren’t ‘quite sure’ what happened to Ellone.” Squall couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. He really did look miserable, the old man laying there with an arm draped over his eyes like that was going to stop whatever emotion would come pouring out.  _ Cry, then. Like you have any shame left in your body _ , his thoughts said one thing but his heart said quite another. “The kicker? No one told me I had a son. No one. Not a single one of those villagers had the decency to-” Laguna sighed raggedly. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I came back to Esthar and spent the next few years trying to find Ellone.”

“So you didn’t know?” Squall’s voice was softer than he meant it to be.

“ About you? Having a son? I didn’t have a damn clue. How could I?” The President’s voice became increasingly bitter.  _ Who knew he could pull that off.  _ The silence returned, Laguna exhausted from mentally reliving his life and Squall placing the pieces of his past in order. The fact that his father didn’t know he existed was almost a relief, in a way. It was better than the alternative, which was being purposely abandoned by by a deadbeat dad. He could almost sympathize with the man by the way the villagers allegedly treated him. “They didn’t care for outsiders. So screw him, he doesn’t need to know about his dead wife or newborn son.”

“... get the point.” The younger man reluctantly tried to calm him . “You’re going to pop a vessel if you keep it up. Explain the other stuff.” Laguna sat up on his elbows and peered over to the man in the study chair.

“The… Sexual interest?” There it was again, the empty pit in his stomach. Laguna only groaned in protest. “I didn’t put everything together until Ragnarok. I tried to tell you, but you were busy”. Squall scoffed.

“Yes. Saving a woman and the world.”

“So you can see how it got passed me.”

“ _ Hardly. _ ”  He sneered. “How did we end up having sex?” Another groan of protest left Laguna’s lips as he dropped back down on the bed in a heap of exhaustion.

“We. Had. A. Spark. When we met, remember? You were flirting, I was flirting. We were doing the flirt dance. The ‘You’re my son’ bit grossed me the hell out, but I didn’t know you existed until a few months ago. And by the time I found out who you were, I was already...”

“... Infatuated.”

“ Yeah. I guess you can say that.” Squall scowled again. “Don’t gimme that look. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t raise you, so it’s not like I was teaching you to toss a ball then had you toss  _ my _ ball-”

“ For Hyne’s sake,  _ stop. _ ”  President Loire laughed for the first time in hours. “I get your point, I don’t need any more disturbing imagery.” He continued to glare as the heap on the bed slowly came down from his laughter.

“Aha…” Squall watched as the man brushed a tear from his cheek. “I don’t see you like my son. I see you like… A handsome soldier that saved all our asses. And it’s not like we can have babies or some crap, so what’s the harm?”

“When did you become gay?” Squall prodded nonchalantly, ignoring the uncomfortable infant-logic.

“Me? Gay? I’m not gay.” Squall lowered his eyebrows in disagreement. “I’m not. I just…” All Laguna could do was shrug. “I didn’t have the strength in me to settle down and find a wife. I just wanted… Fun. And comfort.” 

The SeeD scrambled his brain for answers, and when he found it, he was mortified. Squall held his head in his hands, groaning. “You’ve been sleeping with your aide?!” A cheeky smile and a bright blush grew on the President’s face. 

“Actually, we’re still kinda….”

“OUT. OUT OF MY ROOM. RIGHT NOW.” Squall launched anything at hand. Books, pens, desk lamp, he didn’t care. His fury and embarrassment was enough for a lifetime. Laguna snickered, swiftly exiting the room as he attempted to dodge the assault. He left Squall in a panting fury, glaring at nothing. It was only once he calmed down that he realized the sun was shining through the thin curtains. Morning was here.

He plopped down on the bed, noting the warmth of where Laguna laid before. Squall was exhausted. No, he was drained. How to deal with this person was beyond him. As he rolled over, still in his uniform, a pleasant scent caught his attention.

President Loire’s dress shirt remained on his bed, forgotten by its’ owner. Squall shut his eyes in irritation, slowly willing himself to sleep. The very last thing in his mind was how comforting the scent of the shirt was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Balamb Garden + Esthar assembly takes place as they discuss their long-term contracts. Of course, it doesn't go well.

Squall woke up a few hours later, still smelling Laguna’s aftershave on the dress shirt. He sat up and stared at the shirt for a few minutes before he rolled out of bed to get dressed. He ran over his itinerary in his head and checked the clock. He had just enough time to make it to his first meeting of the day so that the Government of Esthar could discuss long-term contracts with  Balamb Garden.

Squall found himself wondering if his father would also attend. He hoped not. With any luck the man would be passed out on his own bed and miss the meeting. He doubted the old slob could manage to maintain the same kind of schedule he himself had to keep.The thought of President Loire being unable to roll out of bed until noon amused him to an extent as he swiftly darted down the halls of the palace.

He stopped briefly in front of the door and straightened his uniform before walking into the meeting room and taking his seat next to Quistis. She turned to look at him with icy cold eyes. “Where the Hell have you been? The meeting is about to start. Even Dincht and Tilmitt got here before you.“ The smile she had plastered on her face was even more disturbing when you realized the tone she used was soft and cautious, anger hidden away under those frigid eyes.

Squall gave her back his best uninterested stare. “I had some trouble sleeping,” he whispered back, nodding in greeting at the important figures in the room. 

Quistis raised her hand to wave and smile at someone, whispering out of the side of her mouth. “This better not be related to the little tantrum you threw at the President’s Dinner last night. I had to cover for you all night long.”

“ I was  _ not  _ having a tantrum,” he replied, his brows drawing together in anger. Quistis’ smile sweetened, making up for Squall’s surly glare.

“Whatever’s going on with you, you need to get your head in the game so we can land this contract. If we don’t, you can kiss your salary and position goodbye.” Squall scoffed in return, eyes scanning the large board room for the one and only President Loire.

“They couldn’t run Garden without me.”

“ That may be, but without this money, there might not  _ be _ a Garden to run.”

“I get your point.” Squall seemed to take her carefully-chosen words for granted. Had they been in a less formal situation, he would probably be hearing her whip crack right about now, Quistis making some horrifying threat that would surely end up in bodily harm.

Just as he started to relax, reassured by the President’s absence, the door opened behind him and he turned to see none other than Laguna Fucking Loire walk into the room, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Almost infuriatingly so as his tall, dark, and handsome aide trailed him into the room.

“Sorry to keep everyone waiting! Wild night, huh?” The room filled with laughter at the mention of their celebratory party the night before. President Loire took his very important seat amongst the other politicians, his aide joining him at his side. Squall attempted to keep his face from forming another glare, lest he wanted to hear more from Quistis later. The room filled with polite conversation as Kiros leaned in to whisper in the President’s ear.

Squall was suddenly overcome by disturbing mental images of his father and his father’s aide...together...in bed. He watched the dark-skinned man whispering in the president’s ear and imagined the look on Laguna’s face as the same man nibbled his earlobe, his teeth tugging at the silver ring in the president’s ear. Laguna writhing underneath him, surely with an expression that read—

“Squall!” Quistis’ sharp voice snapped him out of the uncomfortable series of thoughts. He blinked, puzzled in his seat. _When did they begin?_ Apparently he was absorbed in other thoughts as the assembly took place around him. He looked back at Laguna and felt bile start to rise in his throat. He felt his mouth start twisting into a sneer and schooled his expression back to neutral. Or what he hoped was neutral. It was becoming harder to tell around President Loire. 

How was the man even awake after the night they had? Much less looking as chipper as he was. Was he on stimulants? Did he leave Squall’s room and run back to his aide’s arms for sex? But then he definitely wouldn’t be awake now... It must be illegal stimulants. That was the only explanation. The man could not possibly go from looking so old and ragged on his bed last night to being this...this thing that could rival Selphie for cheerfulness. Unless he wasn’t a man? Maybe while he was out trying to save Rinoa on the space station, the President of Esthar had been abducted by aliens and replaced with an alien lookalike?

He felt a sharp elbow jab him in the ribs and he blinked, looking down at the meeting again. What the Hell was wrong with him today? He never had this much trouble focusing on meetings. Even the most boring of meetings. Selphie’s Party-Planning meetings, as insufferable as they were, still held his attention better than this. All the blame fell on the vile President Loire. If only the public knew the truth about him... A gay drug user, that’s what he was.

He stared across the room at Laguna in yet another dressy shirt. He briefly wondered how many of them the man had and how much they cost. He idly considered trying to return the shirt on his bed, but the sinking feeling in his stomach told him it was better to just avoid the man altogether.

“Mr. Leonhart, how would you balance the financial aid we would provide in return for Garden’s resources?”  

Squall blinked, pulled abruptly out of his reverie. The President’s eyes locked on his with a somewhat knowing smile. Squall was at a loss, for once. Dumbfounded at the President for speaking so eloquently, first of all. He didn’t think the man had any clue what this summit was all about. It seemed like his aide stood in the shadows, arranging everything. “Well, Mr. President...” he started, stalling for time as he shuffled through the papers in front of him. _Don’t call him Father. Don’t call him Father. Not here._ “ Garden would...invest the money into expanding the classes we offer. With the Sorceress gone for good, there is less need for teenage super soldiers so we would focus on providing a high-quality education for anyone who needs one. We will still offer training in the SeeD program for qualified students who express an interest, of course.” He could hear Quistis let out a sigh of relief. She had apparently been holding her breath.

“Some would say Gardens are ancient institutions and are no longer needed in today’s age.” Laguna responded lightly.

Squall felt a smirk try to creep onto his face as he tried to start a staring match with Laguna. _So you like to crack jokes during serious conversations...?_ “ Well, sir, I’m not sure what I can say about that. The Gardens are barely older than yourself and Balamb garden was started during your lifetime. Are there some who would call you an ancient institution no longer needed in today’s age?” The SeeDs at his side practically shrank in their posh seats as Laguna raised his eyebrows in surprise, a pleased smile on his lips.

“Those would be the same people that consider ‘children’ like you to be too young to manage something as involved as Balamb Garden’s finances and academic practices.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I won’t be personally involved with those things. I find Miss Trepe is far more competent with the academics due to her background as an instructor. And we have a whole team of SeeDs who excel in accounting and finance who currently manage Balamb Garden’s treasury. I was only invited here because I somehow became famous in trying to fulfill a minor contract with one Rinoa Heartilly. You could say that I stumbled into heroism.” Squall paused for a moment and did let a corner of his mouth twitch upwards. “But I’m sure you know how that feels, don’t you Mr. Loire?” the implication of Laguna fumbling his way through becoming a savior rang throughout the room. This was something only those dear to the President would know about, a kept secret.

Laguna’s expression flashed to clear anger, tongue ready to lash out at the brat when he let out a sharp grunt. His aide attempted to keep the man in check, digging his nails into President Loire’s thigh under the long table. The look of rage on Laguna’s otherwise cheerful face brought satisfaction. Quistis cleared her throat.

“If you could kindly direct your more educational and financial queries to me, I’d be able to move this assembly along. I don’t think we want to sit here all day after a crazy outing last night, surely.” Laguna was quietly seething in what Squall hoped was from embarrassment.

Squall grinned briefly at Laguna, glad to get back at the man after two nights of him laughing in his face, then let his expression fall into bored neutrality again. He did wonder for a moment though, if his father would stalk off after the meeting and have rough sex with his aide to blow off steam. He shook his head as if he could get rid of the thoughts and stared down at the heap of paperwork in front of him. _If you make fun of Squall Leonhart, you only get what you deserve._

Quistis’ unrelenting steel gaze swept over him like a frozen wash. “If we don’t sign this agreement,” she whispered delicately and dangerously only for him, “I’ll have you shining my boots with your tears of anguish.”

“Apparently Mr. High and Mighty President appreciates jokes,” he whispered back viciously. “It will be fine...”

“I don’t care if he comes in riding on the shoulders of a Cactuar, dressed in drag. You will suck up any unfunny humor he might put out and work it into your favor.” She snarled back at him. Quistis instinctively grabbed hold of Zell’s wrist as he half-heartedly attempted to leave his chair, yanking him down. “We’re in this for the long haul and nobody gets a free pass. Now sit your ass down and pay attention. That goes for all of you.”

Laguna glanced over at the SeeDs in fuming rage every so often during the rest of the assembly, but he didn’t dare speak publically again. Kiros would speak on his behalf as he attempted to calm himself. “I’m rather disappointed we couldn’t come to an agreement. But a recess is a positive sign. We’ll meet again tomorrow. Meeting adjourned.” The last word barely left Kiros’ lips before Laguna bowed and made his way out of the board room. Squall waited a few moments after the man made his quick escape before he followed him out of the room. 

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated between Squall and Laguna. And not in a sexy way, either.

To Squall’s peaking interest and simultaneous utter dismay, President Loire stood in wait against the door to Squall’s palace room. He leaned against the doorframe with one booted foot resting against the wall, attempting to crack his knuckles ominously as he glared at Squall. For a fleeting second, he thought Laguna was rather hilarious and unintimidating as he stood there in wait with a grumpy little face. As the thought perished from his mind, he found the front of his uniform gripped in a fist and felt himself unwillingly shoved into the bedroom. The door slid closed with a whisper behind him as he was released into the dark room. Squall was quick to catch his balance before whirling around to face the President.

“What the fuck? I crack a couple jokes and you’re trying to murder me?”

“Crack a couple jokes?! You call disrespecting me in front of my nation’s most influential people a joke?!”

“And laughing at me while you tell me you’re my father is fair game?! Besides, I was just telling the truth. Like you were.”

“ Hyne help me, you’re acting like a spoiled fucking  _ brat  _ right now. You still think the world revolves around you and your problems. You’re like a little kid! Nervous laughter during a  _ private _ conversation isn’t the same as hurling knives at the leader of a technologically-advanced nation during a high-profile meeting!”

“Everything I said in that room was the truth. Your peers don’t have to like it, and you certainly don’t.” President Loire ran a trembling hand through his long hair in a weak attempt to calm his rage. 

“And who the fuck made you the truth police? Mm?”

“.... You started it.” Squall mumbled. If it weren’t for Squall’s infamous stoic stare, the President would’ve probably thought the boy was joking right now. Or crazy. 

“ ... I started it.” The President responded incredulously. “Started  _ what _ ?!”

“You knew I was distracted, and still furious with you. You were attempting to make me look like a fool in front of everyone, and further attempting to get under my skin.” Squall observed the president as he swiftly tied his long hair back into a tail, displaying his silver earring in the best possible light. The paranoid part of Squall's brain told him that Laguna was doing it on purpose as a distraction. But then his rational brain said that the idiot president wouldn't know how to use his wiles if he had a set of instructions. 

“Okay, maybe a little bit of that, but I was also trying to wake you up! Quistis was gonna have you for lunch!” Squall’s eyebrows furrowed as he massaged his own temple in irritation.

“You just admitted you were trying to get a rise out of me, and humiliate me in public. Then try to fix that by saying you were trying to cover my ass? What do you know about Balamb Garden politics anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing! You’re such a little kid, it’s unbearable!”

“Well. You had sex with this ‘little kid’.”

“SQUALL.” President Loire set his hands angrily on his hips, no doubt giving him a tongue lashing. But the SeeD found the way the light hit the President just so, to be terribly distracting. What was it about the natural light of the room hitting him that made his skin seem softer, the earring glisten just right?

Squall stepped close to the older man, breaking personal boundries. He snatched at the front of Laguna’s expensive shirt, noting the sudden stammer in the man’s voice.

“What, you wanna fight, now? FINE. I’ll fight!” Laguna was in the middle of folding up his sleeves, preparing to duke it out before he was yanked down to Squall’s level, a firm pair of lips pressed against his own.

Squall moved his other hand behind Laguna's neck and pulled him close, desperately seeking...something. He wasn't sure what. He pulled away from the older man a few moments later so they could catch their breath. Laguna, slumped back against the closed door, attempted to stutter words out from his breathless lips to no avail. It wasn’t until Squall went in for a second strike that Laguna spoke up, grabbing Squall by the shoulders in futile resistance. “... What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? You’re kissing me. That’s what you’re doing.”

“If you know, then why ask?”

The President groaned in response. "Let me clarify. First you hate me and now you're kissing me. Why?!"

Squall shrugged noncommittally. "Your earring looks nice. Your hair looks nice. You're a fucking handsome bastard and I hate you and I want to kiss you and I want to do this. " Squall leaned forward to grab the earring between his teeth and tug on it gently. President Loire let out a weak, surprised moan despite himself. No longer gripping his shoulders but simply setting his hands on them. "Does he do that to you, too? It looked like he was going to at the meeting."

Laguna shoved him back forcibly as he attempted to regain his composure. “...you have issues, Squall. E-either you fucking hate me, or I turn you on, but you gotta make up your mind!”

"I can't make up my mind right now. Hyne." Squall pulled away from Laguna and took up pacing holes in the carpeting, his favorite activity when he couldn't think. "It's like you said. There was a spark. And suddenly I'm your son. What do I even make of that!” Squall caught glimpses of Laguna mussing with his hair, possibly from nervousness, or Hyne knows what else, as he paced around the room. Attempting to get his words out so the imbecile would understand.

“...calm down.” The SeeD wasn’t sure if Laguna’s words were meant for Squall or himself. “I was about ready to punch your face in before you kissed me. So… At least be happy we didn’t end up in a fist fight.”

Squall snorted derisively at the thought. "It's you that should be happy about that. I would have kicked your ass so hard you'd forget your name.”

"I was a soldier, too. I still have the tags to prove it. You're just a cocky brat.” _You’re biting off more than you can handle, old man._ “Y’know what might make you feel better? If you took a swing at me.” Squall almost laughed at that insane idea.

“I’d break you.” He noticed the offense President Loire took to that laugh, and remark. The older man’s posture stiffening where he stood.. “...you’re serious. You’re twice my age. I’m a high-ranking SeeD. I'm a young man in my prime and you're an ex-soldier who's spent the last twenty years getting fat and laz-”

“Either you swing at me, or I’ll swing at your fat mouth.” The look of irritation began to creep back onto the President’s face.

"I'd like to see you try, Old Man." Squall shrugged his jacket to the floor and took up a mildly defensive stance. He stared the President down as he cracked his knuckles. President Loire feigned a swing to his face, his dominant hand throwing a punch to Squall’s gut. 

Squall blocked the punch to his face and turned to the side to avoid the second strike. Laguna stumbled forward, seemingly not expecting that a trained SeeD wouldn’t simply dodge the blows. Squall yanked him backwards by the hair, crouching down and punching the air out of his lungs. The attack sent Laguna reeling back, wheezing for air as he doubled over.

“....cheat…ing… Ass…” was all he could muster.

"I think you opened the floor to dirty fighting with that punch you tried to land. At least I didn't throw your ass on the ground." He stood there in wait as the old man slowly recovered.

“ Gimme a.. Minute...” Squall could only roll his eyes.  _ He’s so pathetic. It’s sad.  _ President Loire stood upright, once again feigning a blow to his face. This time it didn’t matter if he dodged, the sweep of his leg crashed between Squall’s thighs no matter what angle he stood at. That meant war.

***

The palace staff was alarmed at the sound of breaking furniture and shattering glass emanating from Mr. Leonhart’s room. Quistis banged savagely on Squall’s door, demanding entrance. “SQUALL. I’M COMING IN.” The door came crashing open as she regained her stability. Selphie screamed in blood-curdling horror at the sight in front of them. The furniture in Squall’s room was smashed to bits, the ceiling lamps swaying, threatening to drop down any moment. Squall held the President of the nation in a chokehold, the both of them squirming about on the floor. Laguna covered in bruises, bites and blood. Squall not too far behind. “Are you _trying_ to destroy Balamb Garden, or is this your idea of stress relief?” She hissed at the boys rolling around on the floor like they were fighting for ownership of a play toy.

President Loire gasped and pleaded, his eyes beginning to roll back into his skull. “Can’t…. Breathe….” Quistis took the whip from her belt, cracking it down on Squall, intending to injure him. At least enough to stop him from murdering the President of Esthar. He released the president, stormy slate blue eyes promising death to Quistis as he held his now-bleeding upper arm.

“ It’s a flesh wound, you’ll live.” With a sharp whistle from her lips,  the staff rushed in to help the President to his feet and onward to the palace’s medical station. “What the  _ Hell  _ is your problem, Squall.” Quistis snapped viciously at him as she wrenched him up to his feet by his injured arm.

He glared at her with an almost petulant look and gave the only answer he could think of. “He started it.”

Quistis looked up at the ceiling with a deep breath. “Seriously, Squall? He started it. Are you six?! Even assuming that a 45-year-old man for some reason decided that he could take on a 19-year-old mercenary, _you know better_! You can’t go around hurting civilians or people offering you contracts! Why would you even think...?!” Quistis screamed through her frustration, throwing her hands up. “Fine. You’re confined to quarters until further notice. I’ll personally come and escort you to functions and you are _not_ to say a _word_. _Especially_ to President Loire!”

Squall sat on the edge of his bed, glaring at the blonde woman as she gave him the worst dressing-down of his life. “Understood, Ms. Trepe,” he spat. “Under house arrest. In fact, why don’t you just keep me away from _all_ meetings for the rest of the trip?”

“Because that’s exactly what you want and I won’t give you the satisfaction. You’re just going to have to put on your big-girl panties and get over whatever grudge you have with the President.” Quistis stepped up in front of him and jabbed at his chest with a perfectly-manicured finger. “And if you don’t, I won’t even wait for word from Cid. I will strip you of your uniform and leave you to die in the desert wasteland outside the city.”

Squall sneered but huffed out a breath. “.....understood, ma’am.” Quistis fixed him with one last glare before she turned and stalked out of his room, leaving him alone to nurse his wounds, both physical and mental.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Driven crazy by Laguna and his aftershave, Squall enjoys a little "Alone Time".

True to her word, Quistis escorted him everywhere. She lead him around with the commanding presence of a born leader and the stern expression of a mother. She walked him to their meals, to minor meet and greets, even to the bathroom. It was apparently a mission to her now, and nothing was too private or off limits.

It wasn’t until after dinner, close to ten, that Quistis finally cut him some slack. Sort of. “You’ll remain in your quarters until I come fetch you in the morning.” She stood in his doorway, hands at her hips. Squall opened his mouth in protest but she cut him off. “And just so you don’t sneak away to do something stupid, I’ve switched rooms.” Ms. Trepe pointed to the door across from his. _Dammit, woman. I’m not a child._ “If you don’t want to be treated like a child, don’t act like one.” It was eerie how she could almost read his mind sometimes.

Quistis let down her hair with a weary sigh. Her shoulders relaxed as she practically pouted at him. “You’re aging me way beyond my years, Leonhart. I dunno what’s going on with you and the President, maybe I don’t wanna know. Just take care of it. For Garden’s sake. For sanity’s sake.” Her voice was softer now. Squall toyed with the idea of her hair. What if her hair was the source of her tension and strict demeanor? If she kept it down, would she be this nice all the time?

With a final exhausted glance, Quistis departed to her quarters across the hall. It wasn’t until he was left alone in the dimly-lit room that his thoughts crept back up to haunt him. Squall obsessed over matters, it was always his process. He might’ve appeared quick to react, but little did anyone know the lengthy thought-process he went through. He was just very quick at it, unless it involved personal matters. If it was personal, he masochistically agonized over every detail with a fine-toothed comb until he reached a verdict.

But not tonight. Squall was absolutely exhausted. It felt like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years. He was determined to crawl into bed and go out like a light. _Interesting_ , he mused to himself. The contents of his room were apparently replaced while he was out and about. The palace staff did a nice job of sweeping up the chaotic mess he and Laguna had left behind, as well. It was as if nothing had happened at all.

The exhausted SeeD made slow work of his uniform, stripping down to nothing. The closet opened with a swipe of the air in front of its’ sensors. As he reached for a hanger he noticed several articles of clothing already on display to the far right. He correctly guessed that the palace staff also put his everyday-wear away. _They’re quite competent_ , he silently praised. He hesitated closing the closet doors when his eyes fell on an item of clothing that didn’t belong.

President Loire’s abandoned dress shirt. Squall sighed in frustration, instantly changing his opinion of the cleaning staff. They couldn’t be _that_ competent if they thought that shirt was his. It wasn’t ugly or offensive in the least. But could anyone see him wearing something like that? His jacket and belts were practically a staple. That sort of thing looked great on President Loire but he wouldn’t ever wear it. 

The SeeD shook his head as he took the offending shirt from the closet by its’ hook. Part of him wanted to toss the damned thing in the bin. Another part of him wanted to shred it into confetti in its’ owner’s face as an act of defiance. Yet he found himself holding the soft fabric to his bare chest. He admired the expensive tailoring and wondered how much it cost. Squall admired it in the way he admired a very expensive car. It wasn’t his style, and he couldn’t ever afford it either way. But the curiosity was there.

Surely President Loire didn’t dress himself for important occasions. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to go about giving a shit over what to wear. If anything else, Laguna struck him as the kind of man that would go into nation-affecting assemblies in cargo shorts and an undershirt. If his aide allowed it.

And the bile came back up his throat in a flash. President Loire and his aide   . Laguna and Kiros. Squall recalled the dreams he had before they met. Kiros and Laguna definitely seemed comfortable around each other. And the childish bastard confirmed not two days ago that they were still in...relations. _Then what the fuck does he want with me?!_ Squall furiously tossed the shirt aside and watched it land by the foot of his bed. He gave the offending fabric a light kick before finally climbing under the warm sheets.

His gaze fell onto the wall clock hanging over his dresser. It was a little passed eleven. Squall pulled the sheets up to his nose as he rolled over onto his side with a soft sigh. Laguna and Kiros. _They’re probably fucking right now._ The thought of the two of them entangled together under a bedspread more than infuriated him. And he couldn’t exactly explain why. _He’s my father, for Hyne’s sake._ His insides sank into themselves as he remembered that ugly truth. He clutched the sheets close to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

He wished Laguna had never told him. Things would’ve been fine. More than fine. His innards wouldn’t try to whiplash him every time he went between sexual arousal and anger. They were great before all this mess. A physical encounter would’ve ended in ecstasy prior to the revelation, not in smashed furniture, bloody noses and beaten egos. They could’ve kept flirting. Enjoying alcohol on a balcony, who knows what else. Instead, he was alone. Wondering if the source of his lust—his father—was having sex with another man a hall away.

Irritatingly enough, he could see the man’s face behind his eyelids. That cheeky grin. That ridiculous earring. Who did he think he was fooling? He wasn’t exactly a spring chicken. _That earring and long hair looks ridiculous on you, old man._ That wasn’t how he really felt and he knew it. Squall was trying to convince himself, above all else, that his biological father was not a handsome man. And he was failing miserably.

The President’s long, dark hair suited him. And the earring was also an appealing match. It was all held together in an attractive package by his teal eyes. His love handles added to his character, strangely enough. It was like an endearing layer of padding he wanted to pinch. Though there was no doubt in his mind that Laguna Loire must’ve been a striking man back in his army days. Even more striking than he was now. The first time they laid eyes on each other, Laguna’s eyes positively beamed with delight. When the older man gave Squall one of those smiles—sincere, gentle, playful, slightly melancholy, and more than slightly cheeky—he somehow knew he’d lost the fight. _The charming asshole._

Try as he might, it was too late now. His mind began to flutter away to thoughts of a more sexual nature. He imagined what Laguna’s face would look like while he was in pleasure. Squall could see the blush on the man’s cheeks, imagined his moist lips parted as he mewled and whimpered in bliss. A flash of President Loire’s pink tongue as he attempted to keep said lips from drying. Squall could almost hear the light metal of Laguna’s dog tags rattle and bounce off his skin in a heated rhythm.

Squall groaned loudly under the covers, his erection throbbing between his legs. He considered crawling out of bed and taking a cold shower just to get rid of the problem, but he didn’t feel like torturing himself any longer. It was bad enough having Quistis treat him like a child, but he was still smarting where his father’s blows had landed. _Fuck it_ , he thought, scooting up on the bed to lean back against the headboard.

He pulled his legs up to rest his feet flat on the mattress and snaked a hand between his legs to touch himself as his brain conjured up more images of President Loire for him. He rolled the tip of his cock between his fingers as he drew up memories of Laguna’s smiling face. The twinkle in his green eyes; the pearly, shiny whiteness of his teeth; the soft, silky hair that was constantly falling in his face; the small silver ring swinging from his earlobe, glinting madly in the light. He moaned low in his throat as his erection grew larger, pressing his foreskin open under his fingers.

He gently pulled his foreskin back and forth over the tip of his swelling cock and imagined that cocksure grin sinking down, down to groin-height. He watched in his mind’s eye as Laguna Loire sank to his knees and pulled Squall’s semi-hard cock from his pants, teasing it to hardness. Squall grinned at the sight of the President of Esthar kneeling in front of him, worshipping his manhood. “Fuck...” he muttered softly to his imagined Laguna. “Do it...suck it...”

Squall shut his eyes tight, his lips gaping open as he watched Laguna smile and lean forward to suck his dick. His hand tightened around his fully-engorged head and stroked himself in the same rhythm as his fantasy, moaning softly with every up stroke as he watched Laguna’s cheeks go hollow as he pulled up. “Yes...just like that,” he whispered huskily. “You’re such a good slut...”

He reached his other hand down, half expecting to feel the silky strands of hair under his fingers as he tried to grab for a head that wasn’t there. He groaned in frustration and tried to bring himself over the edge with just his hand, but no matter how tightly he squeezed or how skilfully his fingers moved, it just wasn’t enough.

He finally released his cock and threw back the covers, his erection almost touching his stomach. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and padded around his familiar pacing circle in his bare feet, his cock bobbing up and down with every step. _I can’t come but it’s not going away. What the fuck is happening? I do_ not _need his touch to find relief. The bastard can go choke on a dick!_

It was his dick he wanted Laguna to choke on. He groaned. But then why couldn’t he stop imagining Laguna gobbling down Kiros’ erection? He let out a hoarse yell and ran over to kick Laguna’s shirt against the wall. It was nowhere near as satisfying as kicking the man himself, but it would have to do. He stalked over to the shirt and snatched it off the ground, twisting it between his fists as if he could wring the President’s neck from where he stood.

His cock twitched between his legs as he caught a whiff of the shirt again. He let his eyes flutter shut while his hands still tried to strangle the shirt. The smell of aftershave brought to mind flashes of images. Sweaty, silky brown-black hair filled his vision, plastered to a neck flushed red with exertion. Rasping pants and deep moans filled his ears and he wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or his memory. What he was seeing was too realistic to be his imagination. He took one hand from the shirt and braced himself against the wall as he wrapped the folds of the shirt around his dick with his other hand.

He felt a moan rumbling in his chest as he thrust shallowly into the shirt, the fabric scratching him, causing a sensation of exquisite pain as he fucked his hand. He could almost feel the feverish heat of Laguna’s ass as he thrust, though a small voice in the back of his head told him it was probably rug burn. 

Squall grunted and groaned as he fucked his hand so hard that his erection struck the wall with each thrust. “Fuck... Fuck!” he yelled, then let out an incoherent scream as he climaxed, shooting his load into the shirt and smearing it back over his cock as his hips continued thrusting through the aftershocks.

He finally unclenched his hand from around his softening member and held up the shirt in the ambient city light. He stared at the sticky mess on the fabric for a few moments before he tossed it on top of the dresser. He got halfway to the bed before he looked back at it over his shoulder, already missing the smell. He stalked back to the dresser, snatched up the shirt, and carried it back to bed with him. He collapsed on top of the covers and fell asleep with the shirt clutched to his chest, smelling the aftershave surround him.

***

Three days passed in a dull, trudging wave. The politicians and the SeeDs were no closer to coming to an agreement. And though both parties remained civil and courteous, their patience was wearing thin. The stress levels in the palace slowly escalated as the days went by. Quistis continued her self-assigned mission of escorting Squall wherever they went, never to let up. _Always true to her word._ It was both a trait to admire and to loathe. 

President Loire was barely present throughout those three days. The SeeD did a number on him, perhaps his pride was hurt just as badly. It’s always hard to tell with Laguna. He wore a smile for all sorts of reasons, including the dodging of emotional bullets. Squall snorted to himself as he was accompanied down a hall with his babysitter. _He’s not exactly great at communicating._ The irony didn’t escape him.

“What’s so funny?” Quistis questioned as they turned a corner, an eyebrow raised. It wasn’t like Squall to laugh. Or show emotion in general.

“The President.” He answered simply.

“What about him?”

“...he’s acting like an upset child.” Quistis let out a quiet sigh.

“ You realize the irony, don’t you? You think he’s skulking away, upset and ignoring you because you bruised him up. Yet I have to walk you around just to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.” Squall shrugged. “And why does it have to be all about you, anyway? I’m sure the President’s a busy man. He can’t stop everything he’s doing just to have a chat.” Squalls eyelids lowered in silent disagreement.  _ I bet all my Gil back home his “aide” does most of the heavy lifting. _ There was a quick attempt to stop the bile from reaching his throat.

The two SeeDs stopped abruptly as they turned another corner. The President and his aide stood arms-length away. President Loire had a mild hint of surprise on his face while Kiros remained the serious blank slate he was. They seemed dressed for some sort of function that didn’t involve the SeeDs. The President smiled, a weak unbecoming smile, his hands in his slacks’ pockets. The stance no doubt irritated Kiros as he mumbled something about the inappropriateness of his posture. Laguna tossed his aide a rather tired glance as if to say “Would ya lay off?”. Kiros gave him a barely-noticeable frown before continuing on ahead. 

President Loire followed soon after, brushing the non-existent dirt from his shirt as he walked past. Their shoulders lightly grazed as he stepped past Squall and continued on his way. Squall’s stomach sank. 

_Now he’s definitely ignoring me._ He thought that was the case but he couldn’t be a hundred percent certain. As Quistis put it, they only caught sight of the President during assemblies and functions now, and perhaps. Just perhaps. The man was too busy or distracted to pay him any mind. But in a private setting outside of work, he still held a bit of hope for contact. 

_It’s better this way._ They could work on cutting their problems from the root of it all. If they weren’t alone together, his feelings would eventually subside. All could go back to normal. He could return to Balamb Garden and pretend none of this happened. He could become a successful instructor then headmaster, if he put his mind to it. He didn’t need any more distractions. Rinoa, Seifer, Laguna. They were all distractions he didn’t need in his life. He could set himself straight when he returned home and work towards something. Self discipline would do him wonders. He might even be able to get the smell of Laguna’s aftershave out of his mind.

He felt a sharp jab at his side. Quistis reminded him that they were late for lunch with the other SeeDs. Squall nodded in response as they made their way to a smaller dining hall to gather with their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have pushed through this chapter without [Raikana's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/raikana) help. Jesus Christ, she's marvelous at writing smut. Go read her stuff!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squall returns Laguna's shirt, with a bonus surprise in-store.

“You don’t find this just a bit awkward?” Squall asked Quistis over the sound of the rushing water overhead. It’s not that he was uncomfortable with the situation, he just thought it was odd of her. Maybe even a bit extreme. “You don’t have to follow me _inside._ ” Quistis stood a few paces away, back turned to his clear shower stall, a towel in her arms. 

“Wasn’t weird for me the first day, hasn’t gotten any weirder.” Squall lightly groaned his frustration under the shower head as he doused his hair. “In any normal circumstance I’d wait outside. But you’re a crafty one. I instructed five year olds less devious than you.”

“So I’m five, now? I thought I was six.” He quipped back. Quistis let out a snort of her own.

“You’ve been demoted. At least the kids were cute. Your face could bring countries to their knees.”

“I’m an ugly five year old.” He could hear her try to bite back a laugh.

“ No, not ugly. Mean-looking is more like it.” He rolled his eyes as he lathered himself, purposely taking his time. The thought of Quistis slowly losing her patience as she waited on him hand and foot brought an upward twitch to his lips.  _ She wants to prance around behind me like a puppy, I’ll make her work for it.  _ He knew it was spiteful but he didn’t care.

“Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the others?”

“Are you kidding? Selphie’s having the time of her life, Irvine’s always well-behaved and Zell? If he did something stupid, he knows he’d have to answer to me. So, no. I’m not concerned about them. You’re the only one I’m babysitting. Wash behind your ears.” He bit back the urge to respond with ‘Yes, mother”. As that would end disastrously. 

“Fuck you.” So he settled for that instead. “Can I at least hang that towel over the door?” He turned to face her. The only thing that separated his naked body from her was a rather-short glass door. Her back was still turned.

“It’ll get wet. Afraid I’ll take a peek?” She mocked.

“You’re doing a lot more than taking a peak. I’m fairly certain you know more about my body than I do. My head can’t turn that far.” 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Quistis retorted as she launched the towel at his head. Squall peeled it off his wet hair and hung it over the clear door, resuming his leisurely wash.

***

The SeeD party assembled for dinner at the grand dining hall, as it was a nightly custom in the palace. The dinners were more like parties, if Squall had to take a guess. The invited wore something a bit more formal than their every-day attire, drinks were served, several courses were set in front of them on elegant platters. Their celebratory SeeD uniforms were a bit too much, but they hardly expected to remain in Esthar for as long as they have. 

Every so often, Irvine could be heard lightly scolding Selphie for attempting to take her shoes off under the table. “My feet and my shoes are gonna _fuse together_ if we stay any longer...” She whimpered in dismay. On the other side of the equation, Zell fidgeted under the restraints of his uniform top. He was also fed up, it seemed.

“Just another day or two. We can’t go back to Garden empty-handed.” Quistis spoke up as smiled politely and waved towards the important figures in the room. Selphie pouted.

“Let’s just cut our losses? It can’t be that big a contract… We’re known throughout the world!” Quistis arose from her seat, tucking her chair in. Squall watched as she quickly fixed up her appearance. 

“I’m going to play nice with the others. Can I have your word that you won’t run off and punch a delegate in the face?” That was clearly aimed towards Squall and he knew it. At least it made the others laugh, despite slightly irritating Squall. She stood staring in his direction, apparently unwilling to budge away from the table until she received whatever answer it was she was fishing for.

“...I won’t cause any problems.” He sighed. With that, Quistis made her way around the room like she was one of them. No doubt attempting to push the odds to their favor.

“She sure is a go-getter. I dunno how she keeps it up.” Irvine idly chatted to himself. It was exhausting watching Quistis sometimes. The woman never let up.

Squall scanned the room for President Loire. He wasn’t exactly sure why, either. It started to become a habit of his whenever they attended these palace gatherings. He wasn’t sure if it was to avoid him at all costs or go after him. His mind began to bend under the flurry of the vicious cycle once again as reached for the cloth napkin to his right. As he dabbed his mouth clean, a small scrap of paper fluttered to the ground. 

He glanced around in light puzzlement before reaching down to pick up the scrap. It contained a string of digits, followed by a single sentence. ‘Call me.’ Squall swallowed thickly. _This has to be from Laguna. Right? Or…_ Another scan of the large dinner hall revealed that Kiros was present, but not Laguna. Squall wondered if that squishy, smiling buffoon had more to him than he realized. 

_She’s going to kill me._ The thought came to mind as his eyes landed on Quistis, who was making her way around the room like a buzzing bee. Squall rose to his feet and exclaimed to anyone at the table who’d listen, “Tell her not to be concerned. I’ll be in my room.” He heard the group protest behind him as he made the swift escape to his quarters, gingerly pressing the paper scrap into his pocket.

***

A few hours went by as Squall practiced his favorite pastime—pacing the carpet in his room to dust. He found himself doing that a lot, recently. Placing all the blame on the twisted, blindingly-handsome bastard that is the President.

Every so often he’d glance at the scrap containing what had to be President Loire’s private number. _He has surprisingly beautiful penmanship._ He grimaced at his own train of thought. _Shut up, Squall._

Squall tilted his head back in silent frustration. He took a deep breath and pulled the phone from his pocket, dialing the number from memory. He continued his pacing about the room as the phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Squall clenched his fist, wondering if the stupid ass was going to answer at all. The tension was killing him.

“Hello?” The voice on the other side was most definitely President Loire’s. Squall stopped in his tracks. The man’s voice hinted at confusion.

“...you gave me your number.” Squall could hear Laguna on the other end let out a pleased sigh. 

“Sorry, I just don’t get a whole lot of calls on this thing. Kinda surprised me.” Squall ran a hand through his hair, shutting his eyes. 

“...what’s the point of this call?” President Loire let out an amused sound.

“ Oh, y’know. Just two girls chatting it up. Got anyone you like?” Squall’s eyebrows furrowed, mouth formed into a completely unamused scowl.  _ Enough of your stupid jokes, you old fuck.  _ The awkward silence said it all. Squall reached for the red phone icon on his screen. “...don’t hang up. It was a joke.”

“...”

“...y’see, I do that a lot. Make jokes. It helps ease awkward situations.” Squall grit his teeth together. This was a waste of time and he was beginning to get fed up with this schtick.

“...”

“...and jokes are so obviously not your thing. Okay.” The SeeD let out an irritated hiss.

“Get to the point, Loire. Or do you want to hear Quistis at my door?” He paused. “Or a scolding from your ‘aide’.”

“ Hey, now.” Laguna seemed a tad offended from the other end. “What’ve you got against Kiros?” No. No no no. He did  _ not  _ want to get into this right now. Squall bit his lip. “He’s a great guy. Did he say somethin’ to you? I know he’s been a little miffed lately but there’s a lot of stuff to worry about and—”

“ _ Stop. _ ”  The heavy dinner in Squall’s stomach began to churn.  _ Don’t talk about him _ , he wanted to snarl.  _ Don’t talk about him like that. Don’t even mention his fucking name.  _ The call was silent from both ends for what seemed like an eternity. President Loire cleared his throat.

“Oookay, then.” Laguna lightly attempted to break the silence. “Did you enjoy dinner? I wasn’t very hungry, so—”

“I fucking hate you.” Squall spat, cutting Laguna off before he began another ramble. “Yet I want to fuck you.” It felt a little better to get it off his chest. He dropped back onto his large, opulent bed with an almost relieved sigh. It was finally out there. Now he could begin the task of ignoring the old man and get back to his senses. 

“You hate me, but you wanna fuck me?” He could picture the confusion on Laguna’s face. “Would I be on top this time?”

“...what?” Squall sighed audibly.

“Well, I let you do me last time, so I figured if we were gonna do it again, I could be on top. Give you the ‘full experience’.” The SeeD groaned. He couldn’t tell if the stupid fuck was joking or stringing him on.

“Shut up, Loire.”

“Just call me Laguna. We’re kinda past formalities, Squall.”

“Shut up, Loire.”

“La-Goon-Ah.”

“ I  _ know  _ what I’m saying!” His thoughts snapped back to something the President said just a moment earlier. “ _ Let _ me? You  _ let _ me top you? No one  _ lets me _ do anything. I do what I choose to.” Laguna’s bright laugh rang obnoxiously in his ear. President Loire could barely get words through his laughter.

“You were so drunk, I’m surprised you knew which hole to stick it in.” Squall could feel the warmth of an embarrassed blush crawl across his face. “If I let you do what you ‘chose’ to do, you’d probably stuck it in my ear.” He hissed through gritted teeth, staring down at the red phone icon on his display again. Laguna practically wheezed. “D-don’t hang up. Hyne. Stop being so serious all the time.” Squall reluctantly dropped the phone on the bed. It bounced once before settling near his head.

“You’re a piece of shit, Loire.” He could hear the other man coughing as he tried to will his laughter away. 

“If your grandparents were still around, I’m sure they’d be thrilled to hear that.” Squall reached blindly for a pillow, attempting to smother himself with it as he lay on his back in misery.

“Will you be serious, for ONCE in your life?!” Squall shouted in exasperation.

“...I used to be pretty serious. Kinda. But I think I made a bad turn somewhere after I found your mom’s grave.”

“I. Can’t. Fucking. Stand. You.” 

“ Yet you want to fuck me?” He could hear the snark oozing from Laguna’s voice.  _ That’s where I get it from. Fuck. _

“ I don’t want to fuck  _ you _ .” He emphasized the end of that sentence. “I want to fuck the idea of you. The real you is a fucking pain in my ass.”

“And yet here we are, still on the phone after…twenty minutes. Though the offer is tempting, you’re kind of freaking me out with all your mood swings.” Another fucking joke. Squall took the pillow to his face again. “Tell me more about this ‘idea’ of me you’re so hard on.” Squall reluctantly obliged, if only to piss off the old man.

“Someone intelligent and dignified. Who wasn’t my lecherous father.” Another long stretch of awkward silence loomed around for a while. Followed by a defeated sigh.

“...I think lecherous is a bit strong. Not like I was planning to get with you as a baby-”

“LAGUNA LOIRE.”

“Okay, okay. Okay. I’m done. Is that what you want?”

“You’re a middle aged man. You should know better than to go after your own son.” He felt his dinner roll around his insides again. This isn’t what he wanted to say at all.

“Then I won’t bother you anymore. You can toss out my number.” Laguna said all too lightly.  Silence rang in his ear. “I know it’s fucking wrong but—” He could hear Laguna stop himself from trailing off. “I’ll deal solely with Quistis from now on.” Squall snatched the phone up and jabbed his thumb at the screen. He tossed the phone across the room and didn’t give it a second thought.

He couldn’t recall a moment when he’d felt as miserable as this. Part of him wanted to call the man right back, part of him wanted to find his phone and smash it with his boot heel until it was nothing more than silver dust. Most of him just wanted not to have to deal with this anymore. But there was only one way he knew of to deal with unwanted emotions. He’d just have to get drunk again.

***

The next evening, Squall attended yet another soirée held in honor of the newfound bond between Esthar and Balamb Garden, though the bond itself was beginning to look rather shaky. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought that his fight with President Loire could have caused this, at least until he took a gulp of his drink and the burning sensation in his throat drove everything else out of his mind.

He almost smiled as he felt the alcohol settle in his stomach and start spreading warm tendrils to the rest of his body. He knocked back the rest of his drink and gestured to one of the many waiters to bring him another one. _Thank Hyne for the open bar_.

“Starting a little early, aren’t you?” Quistis teased.

“Not early enough,” he replied, tapping his fingers on the table as he waited for his next drink. “I wanted to be drunk approximately twelve hours ago.”

“You know, for someone with such a stone-cold stare, I get the suspicion you have a lot more drama in your head than everyone realizes.” She couldn’t have hit it any harder on the head. Would he admit to that? Fuck no.

“Y’all just be careful with what they’re servin’ you. This Esthar alcohol packs a punch.” Irvine chimed in as he nursed his own drink.

“Good. Great. The sooner I can get shit-faced, the better tonight will go,” Squall grumbled, just about snatching his glass from the waiter as the man approached. “You might as well go get a few more. I’m not stopping anytime soon.” Selphie tried her best to suppress a fit of giggles. 

“Look, Squaaall.” The drunk little brunette began. “S’there something you’re not. Not tellin’ us? ‘Cause you got like. The biggest thing up your butt. An’ not like. Like normal butt. Like. Super. WHOA WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM. Kinda butt.” Zell snickered.

Squall rolled his eyes and downed his drink in a few chugs. “If I start talking like that, someone shoot me,” he said, looking directly at Irvine. “ _Please_.” Irvine grinned in amusement.

“As a matter of fact, the drinks had’ya pretty wild the other night, too. We were all wonderin’ where ya ran off to.”

“No where.” Those two words implied death to anyone that cared to continue pressing him on the matter. Quistis shrugged slightly, finger-tip circling the glass rim of her own drink.

“Either we’ll find out when it blows up in your face, or you’ll tell us.” Sometimes her cockiness really drove him up a wall. At least she hadn’t figured out, yet, that it had already blown up in his face. And he’d be damned if he told them about it. Ever. 

“I just helped the President find his rooms again,” he lied. “I think he was even more plastered than I was.” That part was true. Laguna got pretty wasted, as he recalled. He tilted his head back and poured another drink down his throat, getting used to the burn finally. Quistis raised an eyebrow in disbelief but she seemed to let it slide. Another waiter came by with a tray full of drinks, Quistis politely demanding that the tray be left with them. “I hope you weren’t expecting to have any of those...”

“I might have to fight you for it. Things aren’t exactly going smoothly around here, in case you’ve been too busy galavanting with the president to notice.” Squall’s lips twisted into a sneer against another fresh glass of Esthar’s finest wine. He opened his mouth in preparation for a snide comeback when a hand came down and snatched a glass off the table’s tray. Squall could smell the man’s aftershave again, his long hair brushing over his head.

“ S’cuse me. Don’t have time. Just wanted a pick-me-up.” Squall glanced up just in time to see President Loire give the group a wink before turning away and joining the other politicians. His gut seethed with rage and attraction and self-loathing.  _ I know it’s his party, but how dare he just...swoop in and steal one of my drinks! The cocky bastard! _

Squall scooped up another one of the glasses, tossed it back and stalked off in Laguna’s wake. _I’ll show him to show up and steal my drinks when I’m trying to get drunk and forget him!_ He breathed heavily through his nose, following the scent of that thrice-damned aftershave through the crowd. He finally caught up to the President when the older man stopped to wave to a knot of people.

He reached out to grab the President’s shoulder and spun him around by main force. “This’s fer takin’ my drink,” he growled and reached inside his dress jacket. He pulled out the wrinkled, stained and crusty dress shirt that he’d been carrying with him and he tossed it in Laguna’s smug face. He then leaned close and whispered into his ear. “I hope you enjoy the _gift_ I left in there, you slutty cocksucker.”

Laguna dropped his drink, the shattering of glass echoing loudly across the grand hall. He stood there in stunned silence for a moment before peeling the shirt off his face. Squall smiled triumphantly as the older man examined the shirt. And waited for it. 

A light blush grew across Laguna’s face in a mix of uncomfortable embarrassment. “Squall, what the fuck—”

“LEONHART.” Quistis snarled ineffectively from across the room, tossing back a terribly-needed drink. “We’re doomed. We’re so fucking doomed...”

“I just figured I’d return it. You left it in my room the other day,” Squall said with the smug grin still on his face. “You can lick it clean if you want,” he added quietly, so it wouldn’t carry too far. Laguna’s face darkened. “What? You need to go home and cry to your mommy?” Squall pouted at the President in mock sadness, trying to vent every single ounce of emotion he had toward the man. The chatter in the room almost came to an insulted uproar until the President finally spoke.

“ Everything’s fine.” Laguna put on his best, most charming, stupid smile of his life. “He’s just a bit drunk, is all.” He threw an arm around Squall’s shoulder, squeezing none too gently as a show of peace between them. Squall squirmed in his grip, trying to free himself but failing against  Laguna’s surprisingly strong grasp. What happened to the feeble old man he’d been dealing with? Was he  _ that  _ drunk?

President Loire was all smiles as he steered Squall past the group of SeeD gathered at the bar. The group sat perched in their seats throwing back drinks as if their lives depended on it, but Quistis was putting them away impressively quickly. Squall kept squirming as he tried to pull away from Laguna and his fucking aftershave. 

“Do something with this.” President Loire shoved the filthy shirt into the chest of a poor, unsuspecting palace worker as he pushed their way past. The president led him out of the room and down a confusing tangle of halls before pulling him onto a balcony on the edge of the palace, overlooking the neon-lit city below them. The glowing, tangled blue roads formed a nice counterpoint to the pointlessly curved hallways of the palace and the bubbling outgrowth of architecture they stood on. The cool breeze felt refreshing on Squall’s warm skin.

He finally broke away from Laguna and stepped over to lean against the railing around the balcony. However, he found the height and his blood alcohol level a nauseating combination so he turned around to face his father instead. “What am I supposed to do with you?” President Loire began to pace across the length of the balcony. This sight brought Squall to a laugh. “What’s so funny?!” The President’s upset face only urged him on. _Totally get that from him..._

Squall laughed again. “You. Now. This. You’re pacing. You’re not smiling. You’re not cracking jokes.” Laguna ran furious hands through his long hair.

“How could I crack jokes at a time like this?!”

“I dunno. You manage to do it every other time. Why’s this time any different?” Squall settled for smiling as he watched the older man pace. “Almost look like me, now.” He chuckled shortly. “I’m you an’ you’re me.”

“This isn’t a laughing matter, you drunkard.” Laguna practically scowled, hands on his hips.

“ Still not tellin’ me why not. You’re finally  _ normal _ . Kinda nice.” Laguna began to pace again, in pure frustration. How much that sight pleased Squall inside, he’d never tell.

“I’m not normal, I’m pissed off! You wanna know why?! ‘Cause you fucking embarrassed me, again, and ruined any chance you had at helping Balamb Garden!”

Squall chuckled for a moment. “You shoulda seen your face. You know what I wanna do to that face? Guess.” He waited a moment for Laguna to answer, but just received a glare. “Go on. Guess.”

“ The Hell do I know! You’re unpredictable as shit!” The President barked. “What,  _ piss _ on it?!”

Squall grinned widely, loving the sight of the President so emotionally off-balance. He shoved off the railing and moved over to the other man, swaying slightly in the breeze. He reached forward, grabbed the nape of Laguna’s neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. “It’s that,” he whispered as he pulled away. Laguna once again stood there in stunned silence.

“No. NO. You wanted me out of your hair, I stayed out! You can’t just- Just- AUGHHH.” Laguna flung his arms up in the air in complete, utter despair. “You’re driving me up a fucking wall!”

Squall leaned forward and tried to nibble on Laguna’s exposed collarbone. “I like you like this. No more bullshit. No more jokes. No more forced smiles. This is the idea I wanna fuck.” Squall buried his face in the crook of the man’s neck with a long sigh. “This smell’s been driving me fucking nuts. Since you dropped yer shirt. Before you gave me yer number, I couldn’ stop thinking about you. I ‘magined you on your knees, suckin’ my dick an’ then I was bent over yer back and fuckin’ you real hard and kissin’ yer neck and there was sweat and cologne and jizz and it was so fuckin’ hot and tight and I could hear yer necklace...” Squall trailed off as he took a deep whiff of Laguna’s neck.

“...Dog tags.” Laguna half-heartedly corrected the drunken soldier. President Loire gently pushed him away by the shoulders. “You’ve been thinking about me sucking you off and getting fucked from behind?” His tone was complete puzzlement. Maybe a hint of glee. Or wishful thinking on Squall’s part.

Squall immediately moved for him again like a magnet drawn to iron. “‘Specially at night.” Squall didn’t notice the bright blush on Laguna’s cheeks as he held his hands up in an attempt to stop the boy from coming any closer. Laguna took a step back.

“One minute you hate me, the next you wanna fuck me! I can’t deal with that, man!”

Squall frowned in confusion and stared at the president standing in front of him with his shirt slightly open and his hair blowing in the breeze. “It’s not hard to understan’. I hate you when yer bein’ a smug jagoff with yer fuckin fake smiles and bullshit. But when you act like a human yer fuckin hot. See?”

“Hate t’break it to you, but that’s just who I am! If you can’t deal with it, that’s your loss.” Was Laguna seriously attempting a normal discussion with an intoxicated Squall?

“An’ what? Kiros can? You got somethin’ special with him or somethin’? I’ll kill him.” Squall glowered over Laguna’s shoulder at where he thought Kiros was, though he had no idea after the labyrinth that was the palace. “I don’ want you suckin’ his dick. Mine. I hate the way his dick looks.” Laguna spat out a laugh despite himself. The President reached up and brushed Squall’s cheek with the back of his fingers.

“ At least he likes  _ all _ of me. Not just half. Like you.” There he was again, with the stupid gentle smirk and warm voice. Nobody could care that much about Squall. Laguna had to be faking it, just like everyone else who pretended to care. And a whole new can of worms just opened.

Squall scoffed out loud. “As if. I bet he only likes half of you...the bottom half.” The older man’s shoulders shook with laughter again. “What’s so funny? He doesn’t care about you, he’s jus’ in it for the sex. Everyone is. If you think he loves you, it’s a lie. Love’s a lie.”

President Loire stood there for a moment with a questionable expression. “We never actually talked about it, to be honest.” Apparently he chose to ignore most of Squall’s negative, opinionated ramble on true love.

“So if yer not with him, why can’t I touch you?” Squall moved forward again to try to kiss Laguna. “I wanna touch you and feel you inside ‘n out...” He was met with little, if any, resistance this time. He pressed his mouth to Laguna’s and began kissing him desperately, grinding up against him through his leather pants. The older man tangled the hand previously on his cheek into Squall’s hair, eagerly returning the hungry kiss. 

Squall ran a hand up Laguna’s chest and around his neck to wrap around the back of his head, his fingers carding through the loose black strands. He moaned and pulled away from Laguna’s mouth to breathe heavily. “I wanna see yer hair stickin’ to the back of yer neck again. All sweaty an’ salty and yer breathin’ hard and yellin’ my name...” Laguna ensnared him in a second kiss, if only to silence him.

“If you stop talking, sure.” He whispered breathlessly at Squall.

Squall nodded. “Jus’ one question, tho... Yer room or mine?” He brought his second hand up to play with the fastening of Laguna’s current dress shirt. The fabric of this one felt much softer and more inviting under his fingers. Exactly like the man’s skin. Laguna nipped playfully at Squall’s bottom lip before whispering huskily.

“Yours.”

“Let’s go, then,” Squall whispered back.

***

**Author's Note:**

> I want to give a ton of thanks to [Raikana](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Raikana/pseuds/Raikana) for all of her help. She was a huge source of research, helpful suggestions, writing and moral support / sanity. And too modest to consider herself a co-author, despite all the freakin' help she's provided. Wouldn't have been able to write a massive epic like this without you backing me up.


End file.
